Herbs, or The End
by SilverGhostGirl
Summary: Harry has disappeared. Draco and Hermione plant a garden. Disclaimer: I don't any of these people. Which makes me sad. Very, very sad.


Something was wrong. Draco could sense it the air and the stone dormitory walls that surrounded him. _What_ is _it?_ Draco rubbed is left forearm. Not long ago, Voldemort would have been at the top of that list, but Harry had solved all of that. Draco grinned slightly, thinking of Harry. Speaking of which, where _was_ Harry? Draco hadn't seen him since last night. _Maybe Hermione or Ron know where he is. I'll go ask them._ Draco stood, stretching his back and grabbing his cloak off the back of a chair. It was often cold in the Slytherin quarters and surrounding dungeons. Draco hurried down the stairs and into the common room, waving at Greg and Theo as he went. Out the door and into the hallway, trotting slightly. It wasn't like Harry to be gone for so long, and Draco, innocuous as Harry's absence seemed, couldn't help but worry. The boy had a knack for getting into trouble. It was more than a little dashing. "Draco!" He turned at the sound of his name, seeing Hermione running toward him down the corridor. She stopped, and, hands on knees, gasped for breath. "Draco!" she said again. "I just was coming to find you! Have you seen Harry anywhere?"

"No, I came to find you and see if you had. Why?"  
"Because he never returned from your date last night!"  
"What? That's ridiculous! He was there, and we came back together!"  
"When was the last time you saw him?"  
"Er... He walked me back to the Slytherin common room, and then left." Draco neglected to

mention that Harry had also kissed him rather passionately before letting him go.  
"I see. That must mean... something must have happened between the Slytherin and Gryffindor

common rooms. We ought to search his favourite routes between those two points. We also ought to fetch Ron. I'll send him a Patronus." She flicked her wand and a silver otter rippled into being from the end. She spoke to it quietly, and then it twirled off down the corridor.

"Let's go to the-" Hermione said.  
"Library?" Finished Draco with a grin.  
"Exactly." Replied Hermione, shaking her head. "Am I really that predictable?"  
"Often, yes."  
She sighed.  
Footsteps interrupted them. Ron came thundering down the corridor. "Hagrid hasn't seen him, nor

has Madam Hooch or any other teacher I talked to." Ron turned to Draco, a questioning look on his wide freckled face. Draco shook his head grimly. Ron swore. "Bloody hell,

what now?"  
"Hermione has suggested that we do something entire novel to her, and go to the library," said

Draco sarcastically. Ron snorted, nodded, and they set off to Hermione's favorite haunt.  
They entered quietly, and Madam Pince spared them a cursory glare, just in case they were

thinking of being noisy or vandalising her books. Settling at a distant table, they began to whisper urgently. Suddenly, Ron slapped his forehead, earning a pointed stare from Madam Pince. He dove for his bag, and riffled for an absurdly long time before emerging with a ratty piece of parchment clutched in his hand. "I'd forgotten about this!" he hissed excitedly. "Harry gave it to me before he left. I thought it was odd because he usually just carries it around with him, and he hardly lets it out of his sight. But he gave it to me last night before he left for your date!"

Hermione, who had been squinting at the parchment, suddenly sat up and gasped. "The Map, of course! Why'd he give it to you? He never parts with it. Oh, what's the incantation again?"

Ron tapped the parchment smartly with his wand and whispered "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

"What going on? What ma-" Draco stopped. Lines of ink spun out from the tip of Ron's wand, vining across the paper into a perfect map of Hogwarts Castle. But that was not the most impressive part: in every room, hallway, and dungeon, labeled dots clouded, moving with the people they represented. Professor McGonagall was pacing her study, Filch prowled a third-floor corridor, and Harry...Harry was...

"Move over, Draco!" Draco realised he had been blocking the other two from looking at the map. He leaned back a bit, and then the three of them were pressing their heads together over the Map. They searched hungrily, three pairs of eyes moving impatiently over the page, each hunting for the same eleven letters, until Draco, with a audibly sharp inhale earning him a small, slow book to the back of the head, spotted the name. It was by itself in a corner of the dungeon. Hardly minding the sting of the chastising book, Draco pointed at the ink dot, still in a disused dungeon, alone. "How did he get down there? That section of the dungeon has been closed off for years," wondered Draco. "And why?"

"Did you say that that section of the dungeons is restricted? Why?" Hermione's brow wrinkled, confused.

"The corridors are dangerous. Liable to collapse. That's what we were told, anyhow. I don't know if there is another reason."

"Hmmm. I wonder what he's doing there? And why is he standing still? If I know Harry, he wouldn't be standing still in an abandoned, closed-off dungeon. He would either be exploring like the idiot he is, or getting out," Ron put in, equally befuddled.

"Do you think he might be incapacitated?" Asked Hermione, a worried look on her face. "You know, trapped under a rock fall or by a spell?"

"If he is, we have to find him. I don't want to go to class and pretend that nothing's wrong while Harry's in trouble." Draco glared slightly, daring them to argue with him.

"I quite agree, actually. I will be completely unable to concentrate until we know he's ok. Oh, Ron, don't look at me like that, he's my friend too." Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's sharp look. Ron glanced down, sheepish. Draco sighed.

"Yeah, I agree. But we should go. We've got no chance of finding him by the time lunch is over, but we can get a start and hopefully be less late than we might be. Good job we've got potions next, it won't seem so odd that we're headed for the dungeons."

"Yeah. But let's go." Draco fidgeted, worried.

They set off, hurrying down the steps to the dungeons. Draco's bag seemed to drag at his shoulders, and finally, fed up with the way it slowed him down, he bewitched it to make it feather-light, and ran ahead of the others. He knew his way around the dungeons, and soon found the roped-off section. He stood for a moment, waiting for Ron and Hermione, but he was impatient, and they were probably lost. He hurried forward, leaving his bag on the floor of the corridor.

The abandoned hallways were dark and cold, and water dripped down the crumbling stone of the walls in gleaming rivulets, making the floor slippery with algae. Draco wrinkled his nose, the smell of mildew permeating the dank air. There were no torches in the wall brackets, and the water shone in the light of his _lumos._ As he ran, his shoes slipped, and he found himself on hands and knees in the slime more than once. He just stood and kept going, never mind the algae on hi expensively tailored pants. His leather-soled shoes didn't offer much purchase, and he was more careful moving forward. Going faster didn't mean landing on the floor every few feet.

Suddenly, Draco saw torchlight ahead. Something told him it would be prudent to be quiet and find out what was going on, so he whispered, _"Nox,"_ and crept forward silently. What he saw made him gasp with horror. Harry knelt on the floor, scrapes and bruises showing on his exposed flesh. Chains bound him to the walls, arms stretched out to his sides. Blood oozed down his wrists and dripped to the floor, and he appeared barely conscious. Draco forced himself to stay still, even though all he wanted to do was rush to the kneeling boy and comfort him. Suddenly, he felt himself go rigid, and heard a whispered word behind him: _"Petrificus Totallus!"_ And Draco was suddenly leaning up against a wall, immobilised. Harry looked up, his left eye purple and swollen, a gash along his cheek. He saw Draco, and a spasm of terror crossed his face, then despair when he saw that Draco was petrified. A small pop sounded, and the person appeared just behind Harry. They wore a plain black cloak that covered them completely. They raised a wand that Draco could not identify, pointed it at the prostrate boy at their feet, and whispered, almost inaudibly, " _Crucio._ "

Harry writhed and screamed, or appeared to, for whoever had taken him had cast a silencing charm, ensuring no one would find him except Draco. Limbs contorted as Harry struggled to get away from the pain, but it followed him. Draco could see blood running with increased speed down Harry's wrists, the cuffs cutting into his flesh with every movement. Suddenly, it ceased. It person under the cloak stood for a moment, while Harry panted and sobbed, and Draco could feel his own emotion building up inside him, the spell locking it down.

" _Crucio_." Harry thrashed, yanking at his manacles. Draco could see the skin peeled back, muscled layer raw under the cold, slick metal. Tears streamed over cuts and bruises, and Draco knew that this was not a punishment for Harry. This retribution was aimed solely at Draco, by someone who hated them both. Not finished, the figure stopped the torture for only long enough to whisper " _Avada Kedavra."_ Then they Disapparated, leaving no trace that they had been there, except a corpse and a broken boy.

Draco felt the spell release, and he ran to the boy before him, a scream clawing its way out of him. " _No! Harry! HARRY!"_ Draco's shouts reverberated through the chamber, and he knelt, shaking the raven haired boy in front of him. " _Diffindo!"_ He cut through Harry's bonds, and drew the body towards him, feeling the slender throat for a pulse, but none came. Draco hugged the body close, crushing the cold lips into a kiss, weeping. Silver tears dripped onto the bruised and unresponsive face, and into the wound that had ceased to bleed.

Finally, still crying, Draco lifted the body of his love and carried him back through the corridors, retracing his frantic steps with a heavy tread. He saw the light at the end of the corridor, and his bag, sitting innocuously on the cold stone floor. The sound of Draco's leather-soled footsteps echoed in the dank corridor, and finally he encountered Hermione, who, seeing his burden, burst into tears. Her wail of sorrow filled the corridor, and Ron came pelting around the corner, only to stop dead and go white when he saw what Draco held. He stepped forward, his strides terse, as if he was on the brink of falling over. He put an arm around Hermione, tears shining silently on his pale freckled face.

The three eighth-years walked sedately through the corridors, avoiding everyone. They made it to the Headmistress's office without encountering a soul, helped by the fact the entire school was in class, and gave the password to the gargoyle. He let them up, and they knocked at the door. "Come in."

When they entered, Professor McGonagall was facing away from them. She turned, stared for a moment, and then gasped, taking in the three teenagers, white with tears, and the dead boy that the one held so tenderly.

"No."  
Draco, jaw clenched, nodded.  
McGonagall sat down, hard, in the chair behind the desk. When she had regained her composure,

she went to the fire, grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the flower pot on the mantle. She threw it in, and said "Poppy." Then she knelt, and put her head into the fire.

Madam Pomfrey looked up at the sound of her name. She glanced about, then looked at the fireplace. She seeing the headmistress, white-faced and tight-lipped, made her immediately ask what was wrong. "You need to come to my office," was the response.

It took a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. When she did, Madam Pomfrey made a strangled noise and staggered back, hand over mouth and eyes swimming. She looked at the headmistress, then back at the three teenagers.

"No. This cannot be. It won't be."  
"It is."  
"NO!"  
"I know," said McGonagall quietly.  
"How will we tell the students?" Asked the nurse, sitting hard in one of the chairs. "First we must tell the staff."

"Yes, but _how?"  
_ "I don't know, Poppy. We will have to, somehow."  
"Er, Professor?" Asked Hermione, voice quiet to disguise the way it shook.  
"Yes, my dear?"  
"Why don't we just make the announcement at dinner. After they've eaten. It would be simpler, I

think."  
"Yes, my dear, that does seem like the best solution. But we ought to tell the staff first.  
"I concur. Madam Pomfrey, if you would take..." here the headmistress gulped, repressing a

sob."Take Harry down to the Hospital Wing, I will summon the teachers."  
Madam Pomfrey nodded, and, with a wave of her wand, Banished the body to the Hospital Wing,

stepping through the fire to follow.  
The headmistress looked at the three teenagers, pale and silent with sorrow, who stood in front of

her. "Would you mind staying? I may need you to recount what you saw."  
They nodded, not speaking, and went to sit on the couch that squatted in one corner. Ron held

Hermione and rocked her gently as she cried, not minding the headmistress's eye. Draco sat, hands on knees, bolt upright, tears running dow his face in silent rivers. He barely blinked, stock-still and staring at a distant point between two of the portraits. All of which were in various states of shock. He didn't seem to see anything. Staring, staring, he was a snow-coloured statue, silvery eyes blank and empty of emotion, despite the tears on his pale cheeks.

The teachers straggled in, Flitwick, whose classroom was just down the hall, arriving first, Slughorn and Sprout lagging at the tail of the group, coming from dungeons and greenhouses, respectively. When they saw the weeping students in the corner and the white-faced McGonagall, they stopped, confused.

"I have terrible news for you," said the headmistress. "Just this hour, Harry Potter was found,

dead."  
Cries of shock and anguish filled the room.  
"Where?"  
"How?"  
"Why?"  
" _Who?"  
_ "We do not know," said McGonagall.  
"He died of an _Avada Kedavra._ "  
The whole room turned to look at Draco Malfoy.  
"Would you tell us what happened, Draco?" Asked Professor Sprout, and Draco nodded.  
He told the tale in a flat, emotionless that belied his pain. The teachers sat or stood, listening, but

when he got to the part where the mysterious person Apparated to Harry and then away, McGonagall stopped him.

"Did you say they Apparated?"  
"Yes."  
"But, that shouldn't be possible. There are wards at Hogwarts that prevent anyone from

Apparating in or out of the school," broke in Hermione. "How could they?"  
"I don't know," said Draco, frustrated.  
"We ought to get someone to test the wards, see if they're down and no one noticed. We also

ought to check those dungeons, to see if there was a localised removal. I can attempt right now, see if it all works?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger."  
Hermione spun on her heel. Nothing happened. "Draco?"  
"What?"  
"Would you mind leading me to those dungeons so that I could test the words there?"  
Draco nodded, his speaking exhausted. Hermione looked to the teachers for permission to depart.

Waving them off, Professor McGonagall looked lost in thought.  
Draco and Hermione made their way down to the dungeon silently. When they got there, Draco

took the lead, walking slowly in front of Hermione and swallowing bile as the two of them approached the room.

It was so much worse coming back. Hermione gasped and faltered, and Draco froze at the entrance, seeing the shackles so haphazardly Severed by his own panicked spell, the blood congealing on the flagstones, and... and... and the wand, lying on the ground, broken in two. He screamed and leapt for it, causing Hermione, who had been kneeling next the manacles, to start to her feet, looking wildly around. She saw the wand that Draco held, and cried out, on her knees with grief. Draco studied the wand, then choked on horror and revulsion. He looked at Hermione for confirmation, and she nodded. "Holly and Phoenix feather. Eleven inches. It's his wand. That's why it's broken. It goes against a wand's deepest nature to harm its master. The perversion of its purpose destroys the wand."

Draco felt something in his core snap. Someone had taken Harry's wand, and used it to torture and kill him. "His own wand." Draco's voice had gone flat.

Finally doing what they had come for, Hermione spun on her heel, and with a crack, disappeared. In a moment she was back again, looking troubled.

"Yes, the wards are definitely down here. I wonder who did it though. The Hogwarts wards are advanced. It takes prodigious skill to remove them, even more to do an isolated removal without anyone noticing."

"I have to go, Hermione. Can you find your own way out?" "Oh, yes, I'm sure I can. Are you alright?

"NO! NO I'M NOT! HOW COULD I BE?!" Roared Draco. Then, quietly, sounding fragmented and cold. "And I don't know if I ever will be again."

Hermione flinched at his shout, then ducked her head in recognition of his pain. Draco left, black- clad shoulders hunched and shaking, lean body wracked with grief. His arrogant swagger and aristocratic posture had gone, leaving his back bent under the weight of his sorrow and his steps heavy. Every few feet he slipped on the slick floor, once or twice ending up on his knees. Walking blindly, Draco eventually found himself facing the stairs up to the main castle. He took them like medicine, with trepidation and gloom. When he reached the upper floor, the stairs to the Astronomy Tower presented themselves, and Draco, legs burning, kept following the whorl as it spun, until he was dizzy from spirals and exertion. Finally, cold began to prickle at his ivory face and he shivered. The trapdoor opened easily, oiled by house-elves and Filch, smoothed by centuries of students.

Pink rose in Draco's cheeks, coaxed to the surface by a bustling wind. His cloak whipped about him, black in sharp contrast with the paleness of his features. The distant forest tossed like an ocean, birds rising like fish. Draco could see a couple of Thestrals at the edge of the forest, hiding in the shadows. Everyone at Hogwarts could see them now. Even the first-years.

For a moment, Draco looked down and wondered what it would be like to just go and follow Harry. Just a few steps, a couple of hundred feet, he would be with his love.

He recalled something that Ron had told him Harry had said, following the death of Sirius Black. Ron had said "Harry knew that Sirius wouldn't have wanted him to hide away or crack up. He said he thought Sirius would have said that wasn't what his dad would have done, and that Harry shouldn't do it either."

Thinking, Draco told still, white hands resting lightly on the frigid stone of the crenels. He saw the grounds, the students running about, still unaware of the terrible event that had occurred. They would know. Supper was in a few minutes. They would know.

The bell rang, indicating that it was time to head in. Draco started towards the steps, then collapsed on the cobbles. He couldn't face them. He couldn't face their looks of pity or the tears and cries and the coldness of the Slytherins that would be surrounding him.

Pulling his cloak tighter about him, he sat at the windward side of the wall, knees curled to his chest, arms wrapped close around them. Though he shivered, he didn't have the energy to cast a warming charm. The sun set behind him, the last rays pulling a chill after it like a child dragging a toy. He hugged his knees closer, trying to ward off the bite of cold.

That was how Hermione found him, only a few minutes later, holding a pork sandwich wrapped in a napkin embroidered with the Hogwarts crest. The Slytherin snake and Gryffindor lion seemed ready for a badger and the eagle appeared perfectly amicable, but the snake and the lion reared at each other, claws out, fangs bared. What a bitter joke.

"I couldn't do it." Hermione's voice startled him out of his reverie. "I couldn't hear it said again. It's too hard to face as is."

Draco nodded, accepting the sandwich she held out to him. It was warm. A sudden heat settle over them both. Draco glanced up. Hermione must have cast a nonverbal Warming Charm. Smiling gratefully, Draco bit into the sandwich. He wasn't really hungry, but she had taken the trouble to find him.

"It wasn't that hard. I just used the Map."  
"Did you just read my mind?"  
A small laugh."No. Just your face. If you're not hungry, don't eat. I could barely force down a

glass of pumpkin juice, let alone food."  
A sigh of relief, and Draco set the sandwich down on the stone. A sudden urge to burn the napkin

that lay beside it had Draco drawing his wand. Hermione glanced over, curious. "I want to burn it," Draco explained.  
"Me too."  
"Together?"

"You can do it. I am content to watch."

Draco set the napkin on the pale grey stone, holding it flat with one hand. Poking it with his wand, he muttered " _Incendio_." The napkin disappeared into a puddle of blue flames. Watching the ash drift away on the late November breeze was oddly satisfying, though it left him empty. Harry would have like the ritual burning of a symbol of the house enmity they had always flouted so ludicrously.

A drop of water landed in the drifting ashes. Draco looked up. Hermione was crying. So was he, he realised. "He would have loved that," said Hermione, a soft smile on her face.

"I know. He would have had all of us up here, and all of us light the fire together. Doubtless he would have invited Luna and Ernie, just for the sake of symbolism."

"He wouldn't have let us light it by magic, either. He would have matches, and we'd all light it together."

"Of course he would. I can't believe we never thought of this before. He would have had us do it every year on the first day of school."

"Say, Draco, do you know the song Scarborough Fair?"  
"No."  
"I think you'd like it. It's beautiful. It's by a pair of Muggle men called Simon & Garfunkle. It

goes like this," and she began to sing. Her voice was remarkably beautiful.

" _Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine_

 _Tell her to make me a Chambric shirt Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme Without no seams nor needlework Then she'll be a true love of mine_

 _Tell her to find me an acre of land Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme Between the salt water and the sea strand Then she'll be a true love of mine_

 _Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme And gather it all in a bundle of heather Then she'll be a true love of mine_

 _Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine."_

Hermione smiled, more tears running down her cheeks now. "Harry introduced me to it a couple of summers ago. He said he wanted to plant a garden of parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme on the Hogwarts grounds. Not in the greenhouses, he said. He wanted it to be in the air, on the edge of the forest, where the Thestrals congregate. I guess he never got to."

"I want to." Draco stood up. He felt full. He had a purpose now. "I want to plant Harry his garden."

"We should tell Ron."  
"No. Ron wasn't here. He won't understand. It has to be us."  
"I'll get permission from McGonagall after dinner. It ought to be nearly over by now. She's

probably telling them right now."  
It felt like a wave, the grief that broke over Draco with those words. He doubled over, weeping.

He didn't howl. He shook, watching his tears fall to the ashy flagstones through blurred sight. He reached into his pocket, finding the remains of Harry's wand. He clutched it to his breast, his entire body wracked with silent sobs. Hermione didn't touch him, understanding his need. "Draco."

He looked up, tears still coursing down his pale cheeks.  
"Draco, I'm going to leave, but I need you to promise me something."  
Draco nodded.  
"I want you to promise me that you won't jump off."  
Draco nodded again, unable to speak.  
"Can you promise me that, Draco?"  
"I promise." Draco's voice was heavy and quiet with salt water.  
Hermione left, satisfied.  
Draco sat, leaning against the wall, weeping. No longer shaking, the tears rolled down his face silently. For a moment he considered breaking his promise to Hermione, but the thought of her planting the garden for both of them stopped him. He wanted to plant the garden for Harry. He had to.

Draco started down the stairs, spiralling around and around. He met Hermione coming up, and she nodded. Draco smiled. They could plant their garden.

The next day, they met near where the Thestrals lived, and began to dig. By unspoken agreement, they did it by hand. Hermione couldn't help but think of looking out the window and the others digging Dobby's grave at Shell Cottage. She smiled, thinking of the elf's devotion to Harry, his tea cozy and mismatched socks at the Hogwarts kitchens.

They finished preparing the area, and went back to the castle for supper.

The next day, they met at the same time. Hermione had brought sage and rosemary, Draco thyme and parsley.

They set to planting, Draco starting on the left with a haphazard clump of parsley, Hermione on the right with all twelve thyme plants in a lump. They each moved on to the next closest plant, and soon had a patchwork. Emerald parsley, sage barely visible, a deep dusky purple. The thyme held fir-green within its frosted leaves, and the rosemary a deep, abiding forest, mimicking the trees that towered above it.

Finally, using the only magic she had all day, Hermione created a simple silver plaque that attached itself to the tree behind the garden. On it, in beautiful curving script, was a simple message.

In Memory of Harry Potter

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme Remember me to one who lives there He once was a true love of mine"


End file.
